Cooking Storms
by Libby Cat
Summary: Just something I've been working on for a few years on and off. S2 i think. When Brennan makes her Mac & Cheese for Booth, an unfortunate choice of words turns and enjoyable evening into an angst-y disaster for Brennan and leaves Booth determined to help.
1. Chapter 1

**AN. Hi, I just want to say a few things before we start. **

**Firstly, I started writing this pretty much after the episode with the mac n cheese thing -I can't even remember which one it is exactly. How sad is that. Some fan I turned out to be- aired on Australian TV and have been writing it, on and off, since then when the mood takes me so, although its really set after that episode, parts of it are influenced by different stages of the series up to about the middle/end of Season 5. Just FYI. **

**Secondly, this is the first story I've posted that I wrote on my own and is actually serious. I put a lot of my own issues into stories as a sort of coping mechanism so I haven't really wanted to post them-much to the disappointment of my friends who also want to read them. I wont let them either. But today in a rare moment of courage-or it could have more to do with the other stuff in my life at the moment is so ...ick... that I feel like taking a chance on this one. **

**So the reason I'm telling you this... I don't really know, I guess I'm just asking you not to judge too harshly and please review if you liked it. Reviews brighten up my days.**

**Oh and thirdly, I do not own these characters, how they think, or their issues. I may sympathise with them but I don't own them.**

**Sorry, that was a bit long winded - I'm just like that - but now on to the real reason you're here...**

**Please, Happy Reading!**

Dr Temperance Brennan looked over at her partner, Booth. They'd been working together for the past two years now and she thought she was beginning to understand him. Then he would do something like this. I mean who'd have thought he'd be the person who could get her to enjoy cooking. It was nothing special, just mac and cheese but she had felt different making it. Cooking tonight had not just been a mechanical process of converting pieces of matter in to warmer, more desirable foodstuffs. It had been something else, some chemical reaction had occurred in her neural pathways that hadn't occurred before… well at least not while she was cooking.

"Bones, woo-hoo Bones you in there?" Brennan blinked shaking her head. Oops. She must have got too caught up in her thinking again. Booth was busy waving his hand in front of her face.

"Sorry Booth," she said choosing to ignore his question about whether she was 'in there': in where? "I was just thinking about cooking."

Booth raised his eyebrows, "The mighty Dr Temperance Brennan was 'just thinking about cooking'? Impossible. What would your squints think if they knew their fearless leader thought about something like cooking?" He laughed.

"Even if my intelligence is superior to the majority of people in this country, it might surprise you to know that even I, on occasion, devote time to thinking about 'normal' things like cooking." She replied, mock insulted.

* * *

He decided to leave it at that, the way she'd put vocal quotation marks around the word 'normal' seemed to indicate he'd unintentionally hit a nerve. Bones was an intelligent scientist, a magnificent anthropologist, a great author, and if she wasn't his partner he'd say she was one very hot woman, but she'd had some tough times. And on top of that, as brilliant as she was, she chose to run from the things that hurt her. She didn't speak about her past if she could help it and he accepted that. Mostly.

Booth just tried to be as helpful as he could; they were friends after all, as well as partners. He just couldn't be too obvious about it. If he was, that might bring them way too close to the line they fought so hard to maintain. Not that he'd really mind crossing the line, it was just he didn't want to see her hurt again, or for that matter to ruin the friendship they already had.

"Oh really? Well I've been told then." He stuck with teasing sarcasm and yet still admitting defeat.

Brennan looked up from the salad she was forking onto her plate. "Booth, is something wrong?" she asked, not sure if she was imaging it or if the last thing he'd said had not been quite right.

Damn! He thought. How could she have seen through me so easily?

Then, this is Bones we're talking about of course she could tell. Bones had a knack for telling when he was lying to her. Unfortunately.

* * *

She was sure it had not been her imagination. Something was up with Booth, which lead to the question what had she said? It couldn't have been anything else really as it was so sudden a change. All they'd been doing for the time previously was talking and eating. What had she just said, before he went funny? Oh, they'd been teasing each other and she'd pretended to be insulted. She did that a lot and there was nothing wrong with that, except she might have gone a bit far. Booth was the people person. He got the confessions; could always read things in what people said that she couldn't even detect. If there had been the slightest inflection in her language he would have heard it.

She hadn't intended to put any emphasis on 'normal' but it was almost impossible not to. All those years of people around her thinking- and not even trying to hide that they were thinking-that she was far from normal had had their effect. Even now she caught herself wondering sometimes if her friends still thought of her like that and were just better at hiding it. Logically she knew that was irrational and had absolutely no grounds. You couldn't really believe Hodgins or Zach would have any idea of what 'normal' was let alone blame her for not being it. Angela was closer to 'normal' but then again she was considering marrying Hodgins so Brennan thought she was pretty safe on that count. She ticked her friends of on her fingers as she thought- mentally ticked of course.

The person it turned out, as she followed that line of thought, that she was most afraid of thinking she was not normal was the person who was sitting right next to her. Booth. She had to accept it, despite the fact the idea of normality was relative and the need to have others accept her as fitting an undefinable stereotype was irrational. She needed Booth. She relied on him and at that moment wanted more than anything else to know for certain that he at least accepted her for what she was.

It was childish. She wasn't an awkward little girl anymore; having to justify everyone leaving or ignoring her with rationality or science. She was a mature adult, acclaimed author and anthropologist. She didn't need Booth, or anyone else for that matter, to tell her how great she was. So act like it, she thought, though even as she thought it she recognised how hard that was really going to be.

* * *

He wasn't going to say anything. He was going to deny there being anything wrong and just move on as usual. Then he saw her face. Just for a second, she looked like she was going to break down and cry. Then as quickly as it came it was replaced by her usual 'concerned' face. But that moment changed his mind Bones, his Bones needed him. Line or no line.

"Bones…" he said softly putting down his fork "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

That was it. That small, innocent sentence managed, in one fell swoop, to bring her so carefully and well built defences tumbling down like a tonne of bricks. She hated it, the way he could always read her, always knew what buttons to press and most of all she hated the way he got her to feel. She had been perfectly fine before he came along, happily compartmentalising everything and just getting on with her life but with his increased presence it seemed as though her world was repeatedly being shifted off balance. Sometimes she thought that might be a good thing.

Tonight, as it turned out, was not one of those times. She just wasn't up to it. It had been a long few days, with the case and all, she hadn't been sleeping as much as she should have been. As a result she was tired. Too tired to have complete control over her emotions. Which was why his caring, open question about her well being just when she was thinking about one of her deeper fears which just so happened to also concern him was the simple catalyst; it opened the flood gate- well, metaphorically speaking. She was going to break down and cry any second now. She had to leave, to run away before she did something or said something she'd regret later.

Without a word, though not quickly enough that Booth didn't manage to see the tears starting to fall, Brennan pushed away from the table and grabbing her bag half ran from the apartment, not remembering or perhaps just not caring that it was her own apartment she was fleeing.

* * *

It took him the barest fraction of a second to react, "Bones…!" he called out as he too rose from the table but it was too late. Even as he said it he knew it wouldn't be enough. She was gone. Into the elevator and away, he really didn't have a chance now in finding her. Especially, if she didn't want to be found.

But wait, he didn't have to find her. He could let her have her space and wait for her to think through whatever was bothering her and then she'd come home. To her apartment. Her apartment, in which he was now standing. All he had to do was stay here. Then talk to her when she got back, hopefully feeling better and less inclined to the flight part of her defence reflexes. He hoped she'd be alright though. She hadn't taken her coat and the weather was turning a bit colder at nights now.

* * *

Brennan ran. She didn't notice where she was running. She didn't notice the people who stared as she passed. She didn't notice the tears still streaming freely down her cheeks. She just ran. She ran, just as she always had, from fears, from friends if they got too close and most importantly, feelings. She ran to leave it all behind, trying in the physical act of running to enable her mind to do the same.

It was all in vain. Very soon she had to stop. She wasn't exactly dressed for running as it was and there was only so long she could distract her mind from its vicious circle. Her treacherous thoughts returned to the problem at hand. The reason why she had run crying from her own apartment probably leaving a very stunned Booth in her living room. Oh God, Booth. Never-mind what he'd thought of her before, she'd practically signed her own death warrant. Tonight would surely be the straw that caused him to re-evaluate their friendship and dismiss her like everyone else she'd ever been close to.

She felt suddenly faint and, reaching out to a nearby tree, slowly sunk down to the pavement, still clinging to the tree as if it were her lifeline in the raging storm fuelled sea that was her mind. This was it. This was why she could never form a concrete relationship, never let anyone in past her defences. Because she was too damn insecure. It was a horrid loop going round and round in her head; tearing away at her sanity. Did her parents leave because they knew she was already abnormal and insecure? Did Russ? Did this cause her to have the problems connecting with people today? Or did they leave for other reasons? Is she more flawed than she'd originally thought? In thinking that does that just confirm her initial fears?

So many times she'd asked herself those questions as a teen. But not for so many years. Or at least not often. Not until he had forced his way into her life, her work, her heart. She wanted to hate him for the way he made her face things; forced her not to run and hide from society, from everything. Line or no line, the way Booth made her feel...she hated it. It made her want to run and hide, even in the relative safety of solitude but that, she was finding, increasingly to be no longer possible.

She wanted his company. No, she craved it. When he wasn't by her side she missed him, missed the now familiar, solid, and dependable presence. Even if it was just for a few hours while she was working in the lab and he at the Hoover building doing normal FBI things, his absence nagged at her. She would probably go so far as to say it was in danger of becoming distracting. Outside of just his physical presence she found she even relied on him to accept her for who she was and like her for it. It was pathetic, she thought, how much she had let her life get tangled with his. How much she actually needed him.

And the worst part was, she didn't really know how he felt about her. Well, evidently, he didn't mind her; they'd worked together for over two years and were clearly friends, at least so she supposed. All the evidence pointed towards it–he showed up at her house at all hours bearing food when he knew she was working on a case through the night; she had cooked, actually invited him to her home and cooked, for him; he'd been there when she'd needed it and she was there for him–but would he be like everyone else? Would he eventually reach a point where she became to much for him?

That she thought, at this point, might be the end of her. She didn't know how many more times she could take people she cared for leaving. And she did care for Booth, not that she'd ever admit it, but she did and deeply. That was why he had managed to provoke such an emotional reaction from her tonight, why he always managed to open doors in her mind and heart which she'd thought well sealed off or awaken any insecurities she'd thought well buried. Insecurities that in existing caused themselves to exist and had probably also caused themselves to be grounded in facts.

It was all very confusing as she sat alone, crying and cold on a sidewalk in DC in Autumn, clinging to her tree. However even in this dismal state of three things she was certain; firstly, she was a mess, emotionally and physically; secondly, she would soon have to begin the slow, weary walk back the way she had come and return to her apartment; and thirdly, at some point she would have to face Booth and give him some sort of explanation for her behaviour tonight. Hopefully, enough time had passed that he would no longer be waiting in her dining room, or anywhere else in her apartment for that matter. She still didn't think she could face him without tears tonight–an eventuality she would like very much to avoid–and also she could really use the extra time to work out what exactly she was going to tell him.

Brennan sighed, wiped away the last stray tears and using her tree for support laboriously dragged herself to her feet. How had such an enjoyable evening after a hard case turn into such a mess? Well, she could tell. In a word, feelings. That was how. They could make a mess of everything in life if you let them. Sighing again she looked around to get her bearings, she really had run a fair way. Then squaring her shoulders, she turned–finally setting off towards home and whatever fate was awaiting her there.

* * *

Booth felt it had taken all of his self control to wait patiently in her apartment for her to return. However, when Temperance Brennan walked through her front door almost an hour and a half after she'd left, looking like she death warmed up, he suddenly found that the amount of control he'd had to employ previously was nothing compared to the level he needed now not to rush forward, take her in his arms and tell her over an over that everything would work out. Whatever it was it would be fine. They would work it through. Together.

Instead, like with a startled gazelle he had to have the strength to be still and patiently for her to come to him on her own. Only then could he begin to be helpful if she would let him.

**Well, that was it. I hope you thought it was ok. If you would even go so far as to say you might have liked it. Please review. Press that little hyperlink and tell me what you thought. **

**I don't know if I'll continue or if this'll just be a oneshot. It'll depend mostly on how many reviews I get and if by some divine intervention I am inspired. **

**Well, ttfn. **

**...Don't forget to Review...!**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Hi again, I really just want to say - Thank you soooo much to all the people who reviewed or alerted this story. Especially people who reviewed. You made me so happy. You'll never really know how much...**

**So because of you lovely people, I made the effort to try and get in the right mind to write this second chapter. I got 4 hours of sleep last night and was late to meet my Grandma this morning because of it. If that gives you any idea of how much I wanted to thank you all and give you this chapter as a reward/gift for making my day... **

**(I can only write well if I'm very tired, reasonably sick or in a fair bit of pain - I vote for the tired every time if I've got a choice)**

**I'd just like to warn you though, the first chapter of this story I wrote over a period of about 3yrs. The body of this chapter I wrote over about 3 hrs. This means that I haven't read over it in little bits so much or fussed over it in sections for years. When I proof read it, it was mostly as the whole beast you see below. This makes me worry that it wont be as good. I don't think my fears are grounded but even so... Apologies in advance.**

**Anyway, I should stop garbling on and let you get to the real reason you're here. Once again, they're not mine. I just sympathise and try to put it in words.**

**I hope you enjoy and please Review!**

When Temperance Brennan walked through her front door almost an hour and a half after she'd left all she wanted to do was retreat to her bedroom and curl up on her bed in the foetal position, to try and lick her wounds, metaphorically speaking of course.

It had taken the last reserves of her strength to keep walking just long enough to get home. To add to the general feeling of well, 'ickiness' that had taken hold pretty much as soon as she'd stopped crying, the adrenalin was wearing off and as a result her whole body was alternating between violent shivers and low level shaking and on top of that even, her knees felt like they could give out at any moment sending her once again sinking to the pavement. A position, she feared, if she returned to she'd never be able to get up from again.

She just had to keep going, to get home, to get to her bed, maybe to recover enough later that she could get into the bath and hopefully chase away the deep cold that was now settling into her bones as she took the last few weary steps along the hall to her apartment.

* * *

So intent was she in her determination to stay upright long enough to get to her bed, that Brennan was a good few steps into her living room before she even noticed the telltale signs that Booth was still waiting for her. It took her another one or two steps for her exhausted brain to process said signs–suit jacket flung over a chair, gun and badge on the side table, the squeak of the sofa as he got to his feet–but as soon as her tired synapses finally fired into gear and his continued presence in her apartment made itself clear, she froze. Stuck like a deer in the headlights.

"Booth..." She breathed, so quietly she was unsure if she'd even spoken the words aloud. "What are you..." She didn't know what to say to him. How could she explain what had happened earlier that evening? It was clear some kind of explanation was required, but how much to give? How far could she go? How deep dare she let him in? How much would this hurt when he indubitably left? When not seconds before her brain was pretty much entering sleep mode whether she'd liked it or not, now it was back up to racing at a hundred miles a minute. She was starting to panic.

Panicking was not going to help anything. She had to remain calm, or at least seem calm. She couldn't let him see her panic. That would just be the icing on the very distasteful cake of an evening tonight was turning out to be. Compartmentalise. She had to compartmentalise. This was exactly the situation she had been hoping to have avoided, to have put off for another time. Preferably, in the light of a new day, after a full 10hrs sleep and a good deal of prior planning. Unfortunately, like everything in the last couple of hours things were not going exactly how she'd wanted them to.

* * *

Booth watched on helplessly as his partner and friend fought with herself. She was tired, he knew that before but now it was painfully evident. Even as she tried to hide her emotions from him her eyes gave her away. For Temperance Brennan, he found the notion that the eyes are the windows to the soul really was quite accurate. Often, she had the presence or mind to draw the blinds but it took constant personal reminding for her to keep them that way. The more tired or distracted she was the easier she was to read and tonight hardly anything that crossed her mind didn't flicker behind those eyes. She was trying of course but Booth could see she was fighting a losing battle.

He wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, to take some of the pain or fear away, to burden himself with it if he must just so long as it made her feel better. But he couldn't see how anything he wanted to do at that moment could help. It would just add fuel to her mounting panic.

For a moment Booth began to doubt whether he had done the right thing staying tonight. Something he had said had obviously upset her, brought back painful memories of the past perhaps, old fears dragged to the surface. He should have just let her be, let her have her alone time to rebuild any protective walls he had accidentally broken down this evening. His presence more was more likely to hinder than to help he thought ruefully. Too late now though, what's done is done.

The least he could do was give her a choice. He wouldn't force her, but one look and it was clear, to him at least, that she shouldn't have to be alone tonight, that he didn't want her to have to be alone tonight. Something was wrong, seriously wrong, if it had upset the balanced, calm, logical demeanour of "Dr. T. Brennan" with only so much as a few miscalculated words and he'd be damned if he didn't find out what it was and help her fix it. He owed her that much at least but it was more than that, if he was brutally honest with himself, it caused him physical pain to see her so upset, so worked up. Line or no line he was going to be there for her no matter what. He had to be. That's what partners were for right? Partners.

But still, he had to give her the choice to take what support he was offering or to push him away. Sadly he had a feeling she would do the latter. However, this could be one of the few times she opened up to him–just a little bit–and let him hold her up–just for a little while. So it was with that small shred of hope that he finally spoke, breaking into her panic filled reverie.

"Bones, I could...I should just go. If you want me to, I mean. I just...wanted to make sure you were okay; that you got home okay, you know? Well, right, call me if you need to..." He trailed off, watching her reaction, needing her to give him some confirmation she wanted his continued presence.

* * *

"Yes," She nodded as the words sunk in. "Yes, I think maybe you should go Booth." She spoke with as much confidence as she could muster. The effect wasn't exactly as good as she'd been hoping for but at least her voice didn't exactly waiver.

He was leaving. That was good wasn't it? That way he would be gone and she could continue as planned–retreat to lick her wounds etc.–and she would never have to talk about this incident again. They could just avoid talking about it as they did with so many other personal things in their relationship.

There was a part of her, and she didn't know how dominant that part was as yet, that thought this was the most wonderful plan anyone had ever had. However, there was also the part of her that had practically caused this whole mess. The part of her that craved his contact, his acceptance of her–faults and all. That part wanted so badly to have him comfort her, for him to stay and listen her talk about her fears, to have him hold her in his arms and tell her he would never leave her willingly and, most importantly, for her to be able to believe him.

Who was she kidding? That type of thinking was completely irrational. They were partners. There was a line for goodness' sake. A line he had drawn–very clearly she might add. She was panicking again she noticed, and being thoroughly irrational to boot. She just didn't know what to think anymore. How had a nice dinner of mac and cheese turned into this mess? She was in grave danger of breaking down in front of her partner, she'd already run out crying on him this evening and on top of that she seemed to be having an inordinate amount of irrational thoughts regarding the nature of their relationship and what she wanted from it.

She really didn't know what to do. She wanted time to be alone to think, to work all this out in her head. It was much too much tonight. She was too tired, too stressed. She just needed to relax but at the same time she didn't want him to leave her alone. She enjoyed the comfort his presence gave her. While he was still with her, while she could still see him, her fear of losing him was lessened. She found it was a conflict she couldn't resolve. She wanted equally for him to stay and to go. She was being torn apart.

* * *

Booth could see she was torn, that at least part of her wanted him to stay. Unfortunately, he had given her the choice and he had to go with what she was saying with her words and not with what her eyes may be telling him. However, at least he knew now that somewhere, behind all the walls she had set up, she not only needed his help but wanted it too. This gave him the strength to consider a compromise.

He would do as she asked tonight. He would leave and let her think about it. Let her patch up the cracks in her defences for now but he wouldn't leave it indefinitely. Someday soon when she wasn't so confused and fragile to start with, he would bring this up again and they would talk. He would make sure of it. He was no squint but even he knew that a thing once broken loses some of its molecular stability and thus it is easier to break a second time. That was of course if she didn't weaken by herself and come to him within the next 48hrs. Looking at her state now he wouldn't bet that that would be too far outside of the realms of probability.

He had to make a move now though, to do as she asked, to leave. It was harder than he thought to leave her like this but somehow he managed to get his legs moving. It was just luck that he had to walk past her to pick up his stuff on the way out. Otherwise he probably would have missed her last, small regretful remark. She said it so softly that if he hadn't been so close on his way past he probably wouldn't have heard it at all.

"I'm sorry I spoiled the evening."

This comment was probably more to herself than it was to him anyway, but still it made him pause, picking up his badge. "Beg your pardon Bones?"

"I'm sorry I spoiled the evening." She repeated, more loudly this time. "I really am. It was just irrational of me. I'm sorry. I guess I'm just more tired than I thought."

She sounded so broken and apologetic it almost broke his heart. Instead it only served to further his resolve to do everything he could to fix whatever was going on inside that brilliant mind of his Bones.

* * *

After quickly gathering up the rest of his things Booth held out an arm to her. "C'mere." He told her softly but in a tone she recognised as the one you are not permitted to dispute. The one that says, 'this is how it's going to happen whether you like it or not so no arguments'. Not that she could argue with him tonight anyway, tired as she was, and when he looked at her with that grin and the puppy dog eyes she really couldn't say no. However, true to form, she tried to offer up some token resistance.

"Booth..." she said warningly, shaking her head slightly–well, as warningly as she could get her voice to sound anyway–and making no move to take him up on the offer.

"Come on Bones." He beckoned, "Guy hug remember. You look like you need it and I might too...after today you know..." She wasn't exactly sure what he was alluding to but she was really, far too washed out to care.

She sighed and stepped into his arms, acquiesced and allowed herself the small comfort of being held tightly and protectively just for a minute. And then it was over. They both stepped back, shared a look, then the spell was broken. Booth reached across her for the door.

"Goodbye Bones," He told her as he stepped out into the hall, "I'll see you tomorrow bright and early at the lab with hopefully something interesting to divert your attention for a day or so." And with that they were back on safe ground, at least for the moment. Everything, it seemed, was back to normal. They were professional partners and probably friends who worked together to catch the bad guys. That was all. No messy irrational feelings involved. Absolutely none.

"Goodnight Booth" She said softly, attempting a smile. It sort of worked too. She was quite pleased. She even managed to hold it as she watched him enter the lift from her door. Then with a wave and a slightly worried look back at her, he was gone. She lifted her hand to give a small, half hearted wave back even though she knew logically he couldn't see it. Then as her hand dropped listlessly back to her side so did she too, allow the smile to drop away.

* * *

With a heavy heart, a troubled mind and a very weary body, Dr. Temperance Brennan slowly shut the door to her apartment and locked it. At the same time she willed herself to shut again; all the doors to her heart, to her troubling feelings and irrationality, and lock them as she did her apartment door in the real world. Then with a sigh, she turned and lent back against the door, closing her eyes for a minute and gathering her strength to make the short journey, which to her seemed incredibly long, from her front door, to her bedroom, to finally her bed.

Similarly, Special Agent Seeley Booth lent against his car, eyes closed, taking a few deep breaths and trying to convince himself that the strong but self-destructively independent woman upstairs would be fine until he could check on her again at work tomorrow and not to worry too much. He, like his partner upstairs, sighed in defeat. It was a losing battle. Then with that, he got in his car and drove away, putting his foot on the gas and his faith in God, the fates, anybody really, to keep her safe when he couldn't.

**Okay, well that was it. I hope you liked. If you did, "Go ahead, make my day..." No literally please do. Press that lovely little hyperlink and tell me what you thought.**

**BTW as before it remains up in the air whether this will continue or not. My decision is based mostly on the responses I get ...and also how I'm feeling... but anyway up to you.**

**All the best,**

**ttfn.**


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